The Curious Tale of Tamisin Beeson
by ElphieThroppDG28
Summary: Tamisin has always been a curious type of girl. So what happens when she finds out her family's past and goes to Hogwarts? Summary really, really sucks...just click and read, please. A mix of both the books and the movies.
1. REALLY LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE

The Curious Tale of Tamisin Emily Beeson

Hey, everyone. Yes, I'm still alive. No, I haven't given up on my stories (except for Arthur...but that's old news by now). It's those darned plot bunnies...they just appear in my head and go, "Elphie, write about us!" And then I get more, and more, and...it's frustrating.

To those who are regulars of mine: welcome back. :) To those who are new: welcome. :) To those of you who happened to find this in the sea of Harry Potter stories that are out there...thanks for giving my story the time of day. :)

So anyway, yeah, I rediscovered my passionate Harry Potter fangirl identity this past summer. And I've been through numerous drafts of how I would make this work. I'm still not sure it will, to be perfectly honest. But, hey, I can't say anything unless I try, so why not?

Yeah, yeah...OCs in Harry Potter's past? That are RELATED TO HIM? (gasp) It's unthinkable! Well, like I said, I won't know if it's good unless I have other people read it. So, here we go.

This takes plance in that awkward middle ground - let's call it the No Man's Land - between the books and the movies. Bear with me if I screw something up; the movies are a lot easier to watch for reference, because I don't have to flip through page after page after page (but I am rereading the series, so that'll help a little bit).

The story: Basically, Harry's got a second cousin, and she goes to Hogwarts with him. Yep. I don't think I'll piss off too many people (unless there are some hardcore movie canon fans who are reading this...I say movie canon for a reason, but I won't say why. You guys are smart. You'll figure it out eventually.).

Um...I don't own anything, except for the characters I made. Everything belong to J.K. Rowling, the wonderful bright woman that she is, and Warner Bros. And the title is borrowed from The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and that belongs to...whomever owns that. So don't sue me.

Flames are not welcome. They're mean, and they don't do anything. Criticism and reviews are encouraged. If you don't like something, please tell me why you didn't; just saying "This sucks!" without giving me a good reason isn't all that helpful.

So...yeah, I think that's it. If there's anything I forgot, then...dang. I guess I'll have to do another one of these later.

Updates won't be too frequent, but they will happen. I'm not sure if I should split this thing up...it goes from before Harry was born to Post Deathly Hallows, so it may take some work...

And now this author's note is way too long; sorry about that.

Read on and enjoy! :)

~Elphie


	2. Prologue: A Curious Past

Prologue: A Curious Past

"Once upon a time there lived a man and his wife who were very unhappy...[They] had a little window at the back of their house, which looked into the most lovely garden...but the garden was surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to enter it, for it belonged to a witch of great power, who was feared by the whole world."

-Rapunzel, Brothers Grimm

* * *

><p><em>June 28th, 1980<em>

"Look at her, James," Lily Potter whispered to her husband. "She's beautiful."

They stood on the other side of the glass, gazing at the newborn baby lying in a crib. A knitted pink hat adorned her head as she slept soundly.

"First girl in the family in a long time," James commented. "You think he'll give her any trouble?"

Lily placed her hands on her swollen stomach and felt her baby boy kick. "Not if you don't teach him to be a rascal," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Yeah! That's my job!" Daniel Beeson approached the young couple, a mischievous smile on his face.

"How's Nina?" Lily asked, fighting her own smile. "She looked absolutely stricken when we saw her."

Daniel sighed. "I don't think she'll ever grasp the fact that we're…" he trailed off, remembering that they were in a Muggle hospital. "Her parents don't even know."

James whistled through his teeth. "Are you going to tell them now, or when their granddaughter starts levitating?"

"James!" Lily slapped him lightly.

"Right now, I'd rather not think about it," Daniel admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. "Her family is already furious that she got married at such a young age. For a Muggle," he added, noticing James's slightly shocked expression.

"Aren't you lucky we're around?" James said, flashing a smirk. "Your daughter needs some of her dad's crazy in-laws to keep her from dying of boredom."

Daniel chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, don't I know it."

Lily blinked as the two men exchanged amused glances. There was no mystery in the fact that they were cousins; they had the same look and the same impish personality.

"Have you given her a name yet?" Lily asked.

"Tamisin Emily," Daniel said proudly. "After our grandmothers."

"Aunty Tammy? That old windbad?" James asked, shocked.

Daniel shrugged. "What can I say? She was a feisty woman, full of courage and spirit."

"I'm sure she'll turn out beautifully, no matter what her name is," Lily encouraged, giving James a look.

"Speaking of names, have you decided on one for Junior?" Daniel asked.

"Not yet," James said. "It's harder than you'd think. And he's due sometime next month."

"Well, what are you doing here, Jimmy? You'd better run on home and keep searching!"

"We have plenty of time for that," Lily insisted. "We came here today to celebrate the newest member of our family."

"And, as the proud godparents, how are you feeling?" Daniel asked, holding out his hand as if he were brandishing a microphone.

"I'm much more curious to hear how the proud _father _is," James said.

"Excited, nervous…the works."

"Couldn't have summed it up better myself."

* * *

><p><em>October 31st, 1981<em>

Nina Beeson had never asked for an exciting life. But that's just what she got.

It was bad enough that her husband was a wizard; now they lived in constant fear and turmoil. And she had had just about enough.

"We're perfectly fine," Daniel would say. "We'll be safe."

Nina hadn't believed him then, and she didn't believe him now.

She furiously drove down the quiet streets of Godric's Hollow, angry tears rolling down her face. If only her husband were here to see the bite his words now had.

Earlier in the evening, they had been ambushed by those hideous monsters with the masks. Daniel and his friends, who had been over for Halloween, had managed to hold them off, allowing Nina and baby Tamisin to escape.

But their bravery came at a price. Their house was destroyed, and so was every living soul who had been in it – good _and _evil.

Nina could bring herself to mourn her husband too much. She realized, the day after their wedding, what a mistake it had been to marry into a wizarding family. He never took anything seriously, and was always playing around with spells, which made her uncomfortable. He insisted she was too uptight. Maybe she was. But at least she wasn't a freak with magic.

She glanced in the rearview mirror at her sleeping daughter and exhaled. "You're going to a better home, Tammy," she whispered hoarsely. "Just know that."

As her car pulled up in front of the Potters' home and she stepped out, she gasped.

She should have known that they had been there, too.

The house was smoking, the roof caved in just a bit. There were no lights on, and no sound came from within.

Nina cursed and got back into the car.

Daniel and James had made a pact once James's son, Harry, was born: they would agree to raise each other's children if something were to happen to them. Nina had argued that her side of the family was much more capable than Daniel's jerk-off cousin, but he had pestered and begged, and she had finally given in.

Look where it had gotten her.

She sat for a moment, crying into the steering wheel. She just wanted to go back to three years ago, when she was in college and not yet dating Daniel Beeson.

Daniel Beeson, the boy who changed her life.

The boy who had _ruined _her life.

And now she was stuck with a half-magical baby.

There was no way she could provide for her daughter, not without the help from her parents. They were getting older, and she didn't need them to be worrying about her. She could always go to her brothers, but then she'd have to explain about what had happened to Daniel, and then explain some more if Tamisin started doing…things.

She wasn't even going to think about going to the Order of the Griffin or whatever the bloody hell her husband had called it; it had gotten him and a bunch of others blown up in the process, and she at least wanted her daughter to be in a safe place.

With no other option in mind, she started the car, and drove out of the solemn neighborhood.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, rain was falling. Nina walked quickly back to her car, the lightning in the sky illuminating the orphanage's big glass windows.<p>

She had just gotten out of a meeting with the orphanage directors; it had been sticky, but she had managed to get her daughter in. She had lied and said that Daniel had abandoned her, and she had no financial support to give her daughter. They had bought her story, after about a half hour of groveling (from her end).

She supposed that now, she'd have to go live with someone in her family. They'd ask questions, but she could just say that Daniel had taken Tamisin and left. It didn't happen often, she knew; then again, it wasn't that often that a normal girl like herself got tangled up in such a crazy mess such as this.

At least they didn't have to know the truth.

"You'll be better off here, Tamisin," she said quietly, looking up at the huge building. "I just hope you don't hate me for it."

* * *

><p>Life finally got back to normal for Nina. She met and married a nice businessman, and they moved to London. She had three other children, and her life became the bland mediocrity she had always hoped for.<p>

Daniel Beeson was buried like a hero, in the same cemetery as James and Lily. No one knew what had happened to Nina or Tamisin; they assumed that they had escaped, and they would never hear from them again.

Tamisin was only a year old when all of this happened, and couldn't understand anything. All the directors of the orphanage knew, as they watched her grow up, was that she was a curious sort of girl, from a curious sort of past.

They just didn't know how curious she really was.


	3. 1,1: Miss Sayers & the Unnoticed Blemish

Part 1: A New Life Will Begin

"Then the Witch's anger was a little appeased, and she said: 'If it's as you say, you may take as much rampion away with you as you like, but on one condition only-that you give me the child your wife will shortly bring into the world. All shall go well with it, and I will look after it like a mother.'"

-Rapunzel, Brothers Grimm

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 1: Miss Sayers and the Unnoticed Blemish<span>

I know what you're thinking: the 11th Street Orphanage looked like a pleasant place to be, with its big windows and beautiful façade. I know you think that, in reality, it was a terrible, awful sort of place, where the children were punished severely and malnourished; where there was work to be done from dawn until dusk; where the children hated each other, and grew up to become sour and hostile.

That's what society generally thinks of when they hear the word "orphanage". But I'm here to tell you this: the 11th Street Orphanage wasn't any of those things.

Granted, it wasn't the nicest place; it had no internal air system, so it was sweltering in the summer and frigid in the winter. The roof leaked in place when it rained, and there was a family of mice living in the fifth floor music room.

Despite these drawbacks, Miss Beatrice Sayers, the young owner, was determined to make the orphanage a nice, comfortable place for children to live. Coming from a wealthy family, she used her part of her grandfather's will to spruce up the old building's interior. She made sure the teachers who worked there were kind, but fair; she supervised the kitchen and their meal plans, so as not to have the children starve.

But, most importantly, Miss Sayers gave the children there attention. She listened to their problems, and hired some counselors to help the more troubled children. She took careful steps during adoptions, checking and double-checking that the child or children in question were going to suitable homes. She smiled at them when they passed in the hallway, and always gave them a lollipop after each visit to her office.

And so, the 11th Street Orphanage did become the pleasant place, both inside and out.

* * *

><p>Fall was a very special time of year. The trees shed their gorgeously-colored leaves, the air turned crisp, and outside smelled like apples and pumpkins.<p>

It also meant that school was starting up again, and this was when the bullies usually appeared.

While the orphanage was a nice place most of the time, there were a few children who were bitter, for a number of reasons. While most went to a counselor to talk, a few had formed a gang, and bullied the younger children, taking out their frustration and pain on others.

This particular day, a little girl by the name of Clarice Manning was the latest target. She had beautiful golden hair, and her older sister always braided it into two long, shiny plaits. They were too tempting for the gang of bullies, and during Recreation Time, Clarice found herself being harassed.

"What's the matter, crybaby?" jeered the leader, a girl of twelve called Olivia. "Don't have the guts to call for sister?"

The other five – four boys and one girl, all around Olivia's age – sniggered as their leader tugged at one of Clarice's braids.

"Ow!" she cried. "Stop, Olivia! It hurts!"

"Do you want your mummy?" sang Olivia, pulling the other braid violently. "Do you want your mum?"

"Go away!" Clarice eyes were wet with tears and were becoming blotchy.

"Make me!" Olivia grabbed both braids and pulled, yanking Clarice's head back and omitting from her a sharp cry of pain.

"Hey! Knock it off!"

The gang turned to see a little five-year-old girl standing behind them. Her hazel eyes were flashing with anger that seemed uncharacteristic for a girl her size. She stood strong, looking up into the faces of the older children.

"What do _you_ need, Tamisin?" Olivia asked, glaring down her pudgy nose.

"Stop picking on Clarice. What's she ever done to you?"

"Why don't you mind your own business?" said one of the boys.

"That sounds like a good idea," said another, one with terribly huge front teeth. "I think it's your naptime, Hammy Tammy."

The group bleated with laughter. Tamisin tried to fight the color rising in her face. She hated the nickname they'd given her; it wasn't her fault that every time there was cooked ham for dinner, she'd shovel it in her mouth. She liked the taste. The bullies had told her that if she continued to do that, she'd eventually turn into a big, fat pig, and be made into cooked ham for the other orphans to eat. Tamisin knew it wouldn't happen, but Hammy Tammy wasn't a name she was proud of.

"She's turning pink!" Olivia chortled. "She's already changing into a pig!"

The group proceeded to make oinking noises, falling on the ground in laughter.

"I am not!" Her hands balled into fists. "Stop it!"

"Oink, oink!" They were on the ground, circling her, acting like pigs.

"I said STOP IT!" She kicked the nearest bully, and he fell on his backside. The others stopped. They looked at their friend, then to Tamisin. No one said a word.

Tamisin was surprised herself. She usually tried to stand up to the bullies, but she never actually fought them. Truthfully, she didn't know whether to be proud or scared: she was happy they'd stopped and happy she'd finally done something, but the will to actually kick someone frightened her.

Just then, the bell signaling the end of Recreation Time rang. The bullies dusted themselves off, glaring at Tamisin.

"You'll pay, runt," sneered Olivia as they walked away. The other girl bully tugged one of Clarice's braids before running off.

"Are you okay, Tamisin?" Clarice asked in a small voice.

Tamisin shrugged. "I don't know…I should be asking you."

Clarice rubbed her head. "It'll go away, eventually. It always does."

"I guess."

"Thank you," Clarice whispered. "That's the fourth time they've done that this week. I was starting to grow sick of it."

"Why not tell Martha? Or Miss Sayers?"

Clarice sighed. "You know why I can't tell Miss Sayers…it would mean certain _death _if those bullies were caught. They'd never leave me alone! As for Martha, she's got enough to worry about. She's afraid that she's the reason we're still here. She feels like if she wasn't around, I'd be adopted a lot faster. I keep telling her it's not true, but she told me that everyone thinks we're a…'pack-age deal'."

"That's not true," Tamisin said. She didn't know if it was or not, but Martha was a kind and generous thirteen-year-old; why wouldn't anyone adopt her?

"Anyway, I'm glad you were here," Clarice said, changing the subject. "I was afraid they wouldn't stop this time."

"You're welcome," Tamisin said. "If they give you more trouble, come get me. I'll be more than happy to take care of that cow Olivia."

Clarice nodded, and the two went back inside.


	4. 1,2: Meeting Mrs Figg

_This is where I know I'm entering some sensitive territory. So, if this doesn't work, it doesn't work. I think it'd be a little interesting, that's all._

_Reviews are appreciated, please!_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 2: Meeting Mrs. Figg<span>

Tamisin always liked the fall. She didn't know why; she just liked it, plain and simple. Sometimes she liked to watch the leaves float slowly to the ground; she loved the way their bright colors caught the rays of the sun.

As you may have guessed, Tamisin wasn't an ordinary girl. She just didn't know it yet.

Her nose would frequently be stuck in one book or another, most often her cherished book of fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm. She loved the idea of being rescued by a knight in shining armor, or going off to far distant lands on horseback.

Maybe one day that would happen to her.

Life wasn't all bad, Tamisin had to admit. Aside from Olivia and her posse, the other children were nice. Her teachers weren't too strict, and Miss Sayers made sure everyone was safe and comfortable. The food wasn't too bad, either; Tamisin heard from the older children that most orphanages served fried liver for every meal.

Still, the orphanage had never felt like home. It was just a place where she existed; there wasn't a mother or a father or any of that. And that's what she wanted the most: to have a family of her own.

She knew that that was what everyone wanted, but she couldn't help feeling she wanted it most of all.

Although she was five, Tamisin knew she was better off than a lot of the children. Those who were in their teen years were especially difficult to find families for; in most cases, they came of age and were sent out into the world on their own. Tamisin didn't want that to happen to her; she didn't think she could be brave enough to face life all by herself.

She would stare up at the stars at night, wishing on all of them. She wanted a mother and a father, and to go exploring, and, when she was older, find a handsome prince to live happily-ever-after with.

Night after night, things didn't change. But Tamisin never gave up hope. No matter how many times Olivia called her Hammy Tammy, or she skinned her knee on the pavement, or the older children assured her that fairy tales and magic weren't real.

She would keep wishing until her wishes came true.

* * *

><p>Late one afternoon, Tamisin was called into Miss Sayers's office. Tamisin couldn't remember doing anything bad, so she figured it could only mean one thing.<p>

"There's a woman coming in on Friday," Miss Sayers said. "I think you'll like her very much, Tamisin."

She just nodded, knowing how these things went. She'd been through about twenty interviews before; she was even allowed to talk in some of the more recent ones because she was getting older. But each time, the couple in question found someone more suited to their liking, or realized they didn't want a child at that time, or decided not to adopt at all. Tamisin had felt offended at first, but had gotten used to it. It wasn't a personal attack against her; she just hadn't found the right people yet.

"Her name is Mrs. Arabella Figg," Miss Sayers told her. "She lives on Wisteria Walk, in Little Whinging, which is about ten minutes away from here. There are children in the neighborhood who are around your age."

Tamisin nodded again. Miss Sayers frowned.

"Aren't you excited?"

Tamisin shrugged.

"Oh, Tamisin…" Miss Sayers sighed. "I realize how hard it is for you kids. Day after day, I have to watch couples decline because of this reason, or that conflict, or something. And it makes me…angry. But I want you to know that no matter what happens, you can always consider this to be your home, Tamisin." She smiled, and Tamisin felt a little bit better.

"She's very much your speed, Tamisin," Miss Sayers assured, handing her a lollipop. "You'll see."

* * *

><p>Friday was suddenly there. Tamisin sat in a too-big chair in the interview room, tugging at her golden-brown pigtails.<p>

What if Mrs. Figg didn't like her? What if was old and mean? What if she—

The door opened. Tamisin sat up straighter.

Miss Sayers was accompanied by an old woman. Tamisin groaned; older adults were rather boring and bland. But there was something about this particular woman…even though she walked with a limp and needed support from a cane, there was an undistinguishable energy in her eyes.

"Mrs. Figg, this is Tamisin Beeson," Miss Sayers said. "Tamisin, this is Mrs. Figg."

Tamisin waved before casting her eyes downward.

"What happens now?" Mrs. Figg asked. Her voice didn't sound as creaky as Tamisin had imagined it.

"Well, you two ask each other questions about yourselves," Miss Sayers explained.

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Mrs. Figg replied, a bit put out. Tamisin found herself smiling a bit.

"So…Tamisin…" The older woman chewed on her name. "Unique name you have there. How old are you?"

"Five," she said in a voice that was much too small to belong to her.

"And what do you like to do?"

"Read," Tamisin said a little louder. "I like books."

Mrs. Figg nodded. "Books are wonderful things. They take you to new places."

"Yes." Tamisin looked up. "That's what I love about them."

Mrs. Figg smiled. "What's your favorite?"

"Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales," she said automatically.

Mrs. Figg got a far-off look on her face. "Ah, yes…I remember those…very entertaining."

Tamisin nodded eagerly. "My favorite is Rapunzel."

"And why is that?"

"Well, because even though she's locked up in that tower, she still manages to find love. And when all her hair is cut off, and she's lost her prince, they find each other again." Tamisin blushed. "I think it's very…im-spir-ate-ing."

"That it is," Mrs. Figg said, laughing slightly at Tamisin's mispronunciation.

…

The interview went on like that for about another hour. Tamisin learned that Mrs. Figg loved cats, and owned a lot of them. She loved the fall, as well, and had a sharp tongue when it came to her pet peeves.

When Mrs. Figg left, Miss Sayers turned to Tamisin. "So, what do you think?"

Tamisin smiled widely. "She's wonderful."


	5. 1,3: I Dream of Erised

Chapter 3: I Dream of Erised 

Mrs. Figg came back a few times, mostly to fill out paperwork that Tamisin didn't understand. But Mrs. Figg always set aside a few minutes to check up on Tamisin, which made the little girl happier than she had been in a while.

As always, Olivia and her gang were quick to squash her joy.

"You can't expect that old prune to adopt _you_," she would say. "She's not fit to take care of anyone! The board will never allow it."

"She's not that old," Tamisin insisted.

"She hobbles along with a cane," Olivia said bluntly. "And she always smells like cabbage. Face it, Tamisin; it won't happen."

"Look on the bright side," said the other girl in the gang. "You get to spend more quality time with us."

Tamisin spent the rest of the afternoon hiding from the six older children, who had suddenly decided they wanted to play a game of Dunk the Head in the Loo.

It was hard for Tamisin not to think about what Olivia had said. What if she was right? Mrs. Figg was getting older…it was possible that she could pull out at the last minute. Or, even worse, the board would decide she really was too old to watch after her.

"Don't listen to her," Martha Manning said. "They're just jealous. Mrs. Figg is keen on adopting you, Tammy."

"How do you know?"

"When she comes to visit, you smile a lot more," piped up Clarice. "And she does, too."

* * *

><p>Tamisin had a nightmare that night. Mrs. Figg came to the orphanage and was disappointed to see her. "I thought you were someone else," she had said before turning and floating away.<p>

Olivia and her posse, who were now pigs, circled her, oinking and laughing. And then she heard a high, cold laugh as a tall man screamed at a woman. "Go! Grab Tamisin and run!"

She woke up and hugged Ellie the Elephant, her tattered gray plushie she'd arrived at the orphanage with. She didn't want to go back to sleep now; she could deal with Mrs. Figg and the Pig Posse, but that laugh…it set her teeth on edge.

She soon felt her eyelids droop, and she tried to wake up when she felt another dream coming, but she was unable to. But this one was a little better; there was no laugh, no fear of not being adopted.

She was sitting in front of a mirror, but she saw more than just her reflection. There was the man and the woman from her nightmare. The man was tall, with messy black hair and laughing eyes. The woman was stern-looking, and Tamisin saw her own golden-brown hair sitting in a pixie cut.

"Mum? Dad?"

They nodded and smiled; her father's was big and a little impish, her mother's was strained and fleeting.

Beside her parents were another man and woman. This man looked a lot like her father: same hair, same eyes, same smile. The woman had a more gentle look about her, with red hair and a kind expression on her face.

In front of them was a boy, who couldn't be much older than her. He had the tell-tale messy black hair, and was a spitting image of the two men behind him. His eyes belonged to the redheaded woman: bright green. On his forehead was a lightning bolt, small but pronounced.

She frowned at the three strangers. Who were they? Why were they here, in her dream?

But she didn't really mind. She liked their company. They were just as comforting as the two people whom she now knew were her parents.

And she held onto that image, long after the dream had ended.

* * *

><p>On the afternoon of October 31st, Tamisin was called to Miss Sayers's office. The kind owner's smile wasn't enough to shake Tamisin's nerves.<p>

She knew what would happen. She would be told that Mrs. Figg was too old, or that she didn't want to adopt her after all. And Tamisin would go on living here, constantly bullied by Olivia and Co. until they were old enough to terrorize the real world.

"I have some exciting news for you," Miss Sayers said.

Tamisin tried to focus on the pumpkins that adorned Miss Sayers's desk and shelves. Some had faces on them, some were white, and some had long stems.

"Mrs. Figg has asked to adopt you."

Tamisin heard the words, and couldn't move. She couldn't believe they were true.

"What?"

"Mrs. Figg wants to adopt you, Tamisin," Miss Sayers said, a big grin on her face.

Tamisin didn't know when she stopped feeling nervous and started jumping up and down, tears spilling from her eyes. She soon found herself hugging Miss Sayers, getting the older woman's cardigan wet.

"Congratulations, Tamisin," Miss Sayers said when they let go. "She'll be by next week to pick you up, alright?"

Tamisin nodded, but couldn't keep the question from coming out. "But…what about her limp and her cane and her cats and—"

"We went to her house, Tamisin," Miss Sayers assured. "She's very capable of taking care of herself and her cats. She's very healthy, but she's very lonely. She said that her children moved out a long time ago, and she hasn't spoken with them since."

"That's dreadful," Tamisin said, feeling bad for bringing it up.

"She said you remind her so much of when she was little, and she's always much happier after visiting you." She smiled. "She's very, very excited to adopt you, Tamisin."

Tamisin left the office a few minutes later, cherry lollipop in hand and a new confidence in her heart.

* * *

><p>"Tamisin's leaving!" sang Clarice. "She's getting adopted!"<p>

Adoption news spread quickly through the orphanage, and the same held true with Tamisin's case. Instead of feeling sad about leaving, Clarice paraded around for the next week, as if she were the one going to a new home.

"Mark my words, Hammy Tammy," Olivia said one day during Recreation Time. "Mrs. Figg will get hurt, or she'll die, and you'll come right back here."

Tamisin just smiled and went on reading, ignoring the bullies. The news of adoption had helped her develop an immunity to them; she knew she was leaving and wouldn't have to put up with them anymore.

* * *

><p>The night before Mrs. Figg came to get her, Tamisin could hardly sleep. What little sleep she did get, she found herself once again in front of the mirror, with the same four grownups and the boy with the lightning on his head.<p>

Her mother reached out and squeezed her shoulder, and Tamisin smiled.


	6. 1,4: Send Me on My Way

Chapter 4: Send Me On My Way

"I think that's her taxi," Miss Sayers said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Tamisin's heart continued to do backflips. Today was the day she started her new life with Mrs. Arabella Figg. She was nervous, of course, but she was mostly excited; even if this wasn't the sort of family she had had in mind, she knew she was going to love it.

She had said a tearful goodbye earlier to Martha and Clarice Manning and her other friends, promising to write. Her teachers had shaken her hand yesterday after class; Olivia and her gang glared at her, but didn't try to provoke her any further.

The yellow cab pulled up to the curb, and Mrs. Figg hobbled out. "Good morning," she said, a smile spreading across her face. "Are you all set, Tamisin?"

Tamisin nodded. She couldn't believe this was happening.

"If you ever need anything, give us a call, okay?" Miss Sayers said as she hugged Tamisin. "Mrs. Figg has our number."

"Okay. Thank you for everything, Miss Sayers."

"Good luck, Tamisin."

The taxi driver loaded Tamisin's suitcase into the trunk, and Tamisin crawled into the backseat. She turned around and waved at Miss Sayers from the back window, and watched until both the orphanage and the owner had disappeared out of sight.

* * *

><p>Little Whinging was a quiet little development, located right behind a roaring highway. The houses all looked the same: cute little cottages with shuttered windows. The streets were cobbled; the taxi bounced a bit as it drove over the stones.<p>

Tamisin glanced out the window. She could see some children playing in front of the houses. She saw a rather plump-looking boy sitting in a yard, screwing up his pudgy face as he tried to figure out how to work a toy top.

"Dudley Dursley," Mrs. Figg said suddenly.

"Huh?" Tamisin tore her eyes away from the boy.

"That's Dudley Dursley," Mrs. Figg continued. "He and his parents live on Privet Drive, a few streets down from us." She shook her head. "Vile folks if I ever saw any. Terribly ordinary, but horribly nasty, as well."

Tamisin shrank in her seat. She hadn't even stepped foot in her new house, and already she had someone to fear.

"Don't you worry," Mrs. Figg said, reading Tamisin's thoughts. "I don't speak with them much. I know much more about their nephew than I do them."

The taxi cab turned onto Wisteria Walk, and pulled up to Number 7. The taxi driver unloaded Tamisin's suitcase from the trunk, and Mrs. Figg handed him some money before he drove away.

Tamisin stood on the driveway, staring up at the thatched roof in wonder.

This was her new home.

She picked up her suitcase. "What did you mean by their nephew?"

"Who? The Dursleys? Are we still on that?" She didn't say it rudely; it was more curious than anything.

"I was just wondering why their nephew lives with them."

"They look after Mrs. Dursley's sister's son," Mrs. Figg explained as she walked to the front door. "His poor folks died in a car crash a few years back. Of course, the Dursleys find him repulsive, and so they leave him with me when they go out and do something fun. God forbid the poor boy be allowed to enjoy himself."

Tamisin nodded, still confused about the Dursleys. Why would they hate their nephew so much? And why didn't they want him to have fun?

"Well, here we are," Mrs. Figg said as she opened the front door. "Welcome home."

Tamisin poked her head in. The front hall wasn't very big, but there were stairs that led to the upper level. The wallpaper was a pretty pink floral design, and the furniture in the living room looked old, but lovely at the same time.

And the cats. They were everywhere: on the stairs, on the windows, on the couch. They all seemed to be studying her with a curious sort of look. She tried not to let them bother her.

"I'll introduce them later," Mrs. Figg said. "Right now I think we should get you up to your room."

* * *

><p>Tamisin's new room came with a bed, a wardrobe, and a dresser with a vanity mirror. It was a sickly shade of beige, but Mrs. Figg explained that she could paint it whatever color she wanted. There were a few books by the bed, and Tamisin couldn't wait to start reading them. They all looked so interesting…but she knew that she'd have to wait.<p>

Although the whole house smelled of cabbage, Tamisin didn't mind. She learned that it was because of the special shampoo the cats needed when they were bathed. It was a special concoction that kept their fur shiny, and even Mrs. Figg admitted that the smell was sometimes bothersome.

The first night was uneventful. Tamisin fell asleep, and the next morning found some of the cats curled up to her. She had to wait until they woke up until she was able to move.

She couldn't remember a lot of the cats' names, but she learned that Mrs. Figg bred them for a living. There were the ordinary tabby cats, and then there were breeds Tamisin had never heard of before, let alone pronounce.

Because Tamisin wasn't going to be starting school until the following week, she happened to be at home when the doorbell rang one beautiful Wednesday afternoon. Mrs. Figg hobbled over to the door to see who the visitor was.

Tamisin sat perfectly still as four figures entered the house. One of them was the chubby boy, Dudley Dursley. He toddled over to the couch and plopped down, clearly unhappy. He reminded Tamisin of a pig; she fleetingly thought of Olivia.

There was a man and a woman, who were talking to Mrs. Figg in the entryway. The man was big, with a walrus mustache and little, beady eyes; Tamisin didn't know how he could see, there was so much fat around them. The woman, on the other hand, was skinny, and had a sharp nose. She looked like she'd just entered a barnyard, from the way she eyed the cats that slinked around her.

There was another boy who stood directly behind them. Tamisin couldn't believe it at first, but he looked just like the boy from her mirror dreams. He had the same wild black hair, the same bright green eyes, the same round glasses. His bangs were too thick for her to see if he had the lightning on his forehead.

"Tamisin, dear, please come meet the neighbors." Mrs. Figg had on her formal tone, the one she used when trying to be polite.

Tamisin stood, scattering two cats who had been lying on her lap. She cautiously walked over to the three adults, eyeing the two strangers warily.

"Tamisin, this is Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, from Privet Drive."

Mr. Dursley grunted his hello, an animalistic sound. Mrs. Dursley sniffed before saying "Good afternoon," in a snooty sort of voice.

"They're going to spend the afternoon with us."

"And _he_ had bloody well behave himself," Mr. Dursley said darkly, shooting a glare to the little boy behind him.

"Duddykins, come say hello!" sang Mrs. Dursley. Dudley slid off the couch and waddled back over to his parents, eyeing Tamisin with disdain.

"Look, Dudley, you have yourself a new playmate!" Mrs. Dursley tittered.

Dudley turned away, clearly intent on leaving as soon as possible. Tamisin didn't mind; she was rather frightened of this human swine.

"Well, don't act like strangers! Make yourself at home!" Mrs. Figg tossed over her shoulder as she made her way to the kitchen. "I'll go put the kettle on and be right back. Tamisin, why don't you show our guests to the living room?"

Tamisin led the group to the living room, shyly peering at the small boy. He wore clothes that were much too big for him; they were covered in dirt and mud.

"Why did we ever agree to this?" Mr. Dursley whispered loudly. "You know how I feel about these mangy things." He wrinkled his small nose at a cat who had started to rub against his leg.

"She insisted," Mrs. Dursley hissed back. "I wasn't about to turn her down, especially when she's so intent on showing off her new…" She trailed off, shooting a look at where Tamisin sat.

She tried to ignore their hushed tones, turning instead to look at the small boy on the floor. He seemed indifferent to everything around him: the cats, his aunt and uncle, even Tamisin's gaze. She cocked her head, thoroughly confused.

"Mummy, I want to go home!" Dudley whined. "My television programs come on soon!"

"Now, now, Duddykins," cooed Mrs. Dursley. "We'll be home in time for you to watch them."

"But I don't want to be here!" He stamped his foot, which shook the coffee table. Tamisin curled deeper into the armchair she was sitting in.

Mrs. Figg shortly returned, and occupied the Dursleys' attentions. Tamisin was very grateful; she didn't think she could handle another episode of Dudley and his monster foot. She climbed down off the chair and sat next to the small boy.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hello," the boy answered.

"I'm Tamisin." She stuck out her hand.

The boy leaned back, clearly wary of her. She frowned.

"What's wrong?"

The boy looked from her hand to her face. "What are you doing?"

"When people meet, they shake hands," she explained. "At least…that's what the grown-ups do. I think it's silly, but…"

She trailed off as the boy slipped his hand into hers and shook it. A sudden calm overcame her. She blinked, startled, as they let go.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you, Harry."

"Nice to meet you, Tamisin."

She giggled suddenly.

"What?" She couldn't tell if he was frowning; his bangs covered his eyebrows. "Why are you laughing?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "Maybe it's because I was a little scared of you a minute ago."

"You? Scared of _me_?" Harry's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "Why?"

Tamisin couldn't tell him about her dream, so instead she said, "I think it's because I haven't met anyone in the neighborhood yet. I've only been here a few days."

"Oh. Is Mrs. Figg your grandma?"

"No. She adopted me."

"Adopted? What's that?"

"She signed a bunch of papers that said I get to live with her," Tamisin explained as she absentmindedly stroked a cat.

"Just like that?"

"Uh-huh. They had to come to her house and make sure she could take care of me first."

Harry nodded, amazed. "Do you think maybe someone would adopt me?"

She cocked her head. "Why?"

"My aunt and uncle don't like me," Harry said. "And neither does Dudley. They make me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs."

It was Tamisin's turn to widen her eyes. "That sounds horrid!"

"It's not bad…I just wish I lived with someone who liked me."

"Mummy!" shrieked Dudley. Tamisin suddenly noticed him towering over the two of them. "Harry's saying mean things about us again!"

"Potter!" barked Mr. Dursley. "_What_ have we told you about that?"

Harry didn't say anything. He looked at the carpet, suddenly very interested in it.

"Potter…" Mr. Dursley's voice had a warning tone in it.

Tamisin glared at Mr. Dursley, then at Dudley, who had gone over to sit triumphantly between his parents. How could they be so rude to Harry? What kind of a family was this? She wished something would fall on them, to knock some sense into them…

Quite suddenly, the curtain rod of the front window came loose and landed with a loud _SMACK _on all three Dursleys. She blinked. How had that happened? She couldn't have done it…curtain rods didn't move by themselves…

Tamisin cringed as Mr. Dursley's face turned a brilliant shade of violet. Mrs. Dursley went absolutely pale as she pursed her lips. Dudley whimpered a bit, rubbing the back of his head. All eyes turned to Harry, who was still looking at the floor.

"I believe it's time to go," Mr. Dursley said stiffly, rising and practically knocking the table over.

"But you just got here!" Mrs. Figg protested. "I'm so terribly sorry. I must get that fixed—"

"Come along, Dudley," Mr. Dursley said, ignoring her.

The Dursleys clambered into the front hall, pulling on their jackets. Tamisin saw Mr. Dursley take Harry roughly by the shoulder. "I'll deal with you when we get back," he sneered.

As soon as they left, the teapot whistled. Mrs. Figg and Tamisin had tea with their usual entourage of cats, silence hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

But during that silence, Tamisin thought of several things. She thought of the curtain rod, she thought of the Dursleys, but mostly, she thought of Harry, the little boy with the lightning on his head.

Her new life was going to be a strange one, indeed.


	7. 2,1: Letters to God

Part 2: A Boy Named Harry Potter

"…as soon as the child was born the Witch appeared, and having given it the name of Rapunzel…she carried it off with her."

-Rapunzel, Brothers Grimm

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 1: Letters to God<span>

_20 November, 1985_

_Deer Mum and Dad,_

_ I cant beleev Ive ben at Mrs. Figg's for all most a month now. I lov it heer! I dont no if you likd cats, but she has alot of them. Som of them sleep in my room. Mrs. Figg says that on Saterday we can go too the drug stor and get pant. My room is gonna be pink!_

_ I miss yoo,_

_ Tamisin_

* * *

><p><em>25 December, 1985<em>

_Deer Mum and Dad,_

_ Mary Crismas! Mrs. Figg bot a tree, and we put all kinds of ormamaets on it. Mrs. Figg let me put the star on top. Its very prety._

_ I cant open my pressents yet. I wish I cood! _

_ I miss yoo,_

_ Tamisin_

* * *

><p><em>13 March, 1986<em>

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_ I dont lik skool. I dont hav alot of frends. Dudly Durzly is a big bulee. Hes very meen to my frend Harry. No on can be frends with Harry, if they ar, then Dudly will be meen to them. So its just Harry and me._

_ I shudnt mind too much, but its hard. I wish I had mor frends._

_ I miss you,_

_ Tamisin_

* * *

><p><em>28 June, 1986<em>

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_ Today is my sixth birthday. Mrs. Figg and the cats gave me a party. I snuk Harry som of my cake._

_ I miss you,_

_ Tamisin_

* * *

><p><em>15 August, 1986<em>

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_ I think theres something rong with me. I keep making things happen. Wen Dudley was beeng meen to Harry, I mad a skwirel land on his head. Wen Mrs. Figg was wating for her flowers to gro, they sprowted in one day, and I just looked at them. Im scared. Wat if Im sick?_

_ I think Harry may be sick, too. He told me he dos stuff lik that. Cood we hav the sam siknes?_

_ I miss you,_

_ Tamisin_

* * *

><p><em>4 October, 1986<em>

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_ I feel silly for spelling so many words wrong. Primary school is helping me spell better. I keep forgetting to spell "a lot" as two words instead of one. _

_ I don't know how long I'm going to be sick. I still make things happen. Harry does, too. _

_ I miss you,_

_ Tamisin_


	8. 2,2: Snow Day Secrets

Chapter 2: Snow Day Secrets 

Winter had come to Little Whinging again. Snow had fallen for the past week, covering the little neighborhood in a blanket of white. Children were perpetually seen with rosy cheeks, runny noses, and bright smiles; they hadn't wasted any time to take advantage of the snow.

Tamisin had now been at Mrs. Figg's for a little over two years. She couldn't really believe it; it was strange to think about being away from the orphanage as long as she had been. It almost felt like she'd lived at Mrs. Figg's her entire life, as if she were made to live there.

The cats were the same as they always had been. Mrs. Figg brought home new ones once every month, which kept the two of them busy. A few of the older ones had passed on periodically, but Mrs. Figg assured Tamisin that it was their time. Still, it was hard to say goodbye; an old gray one called Victoria had been one of Tamisin's closest tea companions.

It also brought back the old fear of Mrs. Figg growing older. Although she had to be in her late sixties, and she was very healthy, Tamisin couldn't shake the awful feeling she had sometimes when she saw Mrs. Figg hobble along with her cane or slip slightly on a patch of ice. It was hard to think about.

Tamisin had been growing, according to her last appointment at the doctor. She had gained a full three inches, but her feet refused to grow along with her. The doctor had said that Tamisin had the smallest feet she'd ever seen, and that, at this rate, they weren't very likely to grow any bigger. Tamisin flushed at this; she could add that to the ever-growing list of why Dudley Dursley liked to pick on her.

She still hadn't made a single friend besides Harry. Dudley had made it clear early on that if you were friends with Harry, you were an outcast. But at this point, Tamisin didn't care if she didn't have any other friends. Harry was enough.

The two seven-year-olds found themselves in Tamisin's front yard, playing hide-and-seek with some of the younger cats. They loved to burrow into the snow banks, and then pop out like kangaroos; Tamisin still marveled at how they could stand being surrounded by so much cold.

"Gotcha!" Harry cried, catching a tabby as he sailed through the air. The two plopped back into the snow, scattering it above them. Tamisin giggled, watching the tiny flakes sparkle as they slowly floated back to the ground.

"I always like to think that the snow is magical," she suddenly said, "especially at night. It looks so pretty…it's almost as if we're in the middle of a fairy tale."

Harry looked at her, fascinated. "How can you gather all that from something as normal as snow?"

Tamisin shrugged. "The Brothers Grimm are like friends to me. I guess I tend to see things as prettier than they really are."

"No." Harry picked up a pile of snow in his mittened hand, studying the clean, dusty pile carefully. "You're right. Snow is like magic." He tossed it in the air, letting it gently fall around them.

"Do you ever think about your parents, Harry?" Tamisin asked suddenly.

Harry's eyes hardened behind his foggy glasses. "I think I do. It must be when I'm asleep…I don't remember what they look like."

"Oh."

"Why?"

Tamisin busied herself pulling up a cat from the snow. "No reason."

"Well, do_ you_ ever think about your parents?"

Tamisin nodded. "Yes. Sometimes. Miss Sayers, from the orphanage, told me my father left my mother when I was only a year old. He never said why or anything. He just left one day. And my mother couldn't take care of me."

"Do you think they're still alive?"

"I don't know." Tamisin looked at Harry. "Can you keep a secret?"

Harry nodded.

"Sometimes…sometimes I wish they really were dead." She looked down at her boots, ashamed.

Harry gasped. "Why?"

"I don't know! I think I do because then I wouldn't have to think about them anymore. And now I feel rotten for saying that to you."

They stood in silence, the cats sitting at their feet, waiting patiently for them to continue the game.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Tamisin whispered.

"It's okay," Harry said.

Another silence washed over them.

"Do you still…do things?" Harry asked after a moment.

Tamisin nodded. "You?"

"Yes. I'm trying not to do it on purpose, though. It really scares me if I do."

"Me, too."

"Do you think we should tell someone?"

Tamisin shrugged. "I've thought about telling Mrs. Figg, but…I'm afraid she'll say I have a disease."

"If we do, then I can't tell my aunt and uncle," Harry said, his eyes widening. "That would give them an excuse to lock me away in a hospital. Wait…maybe that's not a bad idea…"

That set them off in a fit of giggles. Their game shortly resumed, but Tamisin's mind was still on the conversation. It wasn't going to help if she and Harry kept this to themselves, and her parents weren't going to help her much.

She finally decided that tonight would be the night to talk to Mrs. Figg.

* * *

><p>"Mrs. Figg?" Tamisin asked later that night over her mashed potatoes.<p>

"Yes, Tamisin?"

"Can we adopt Harry?"

Mrs. Figg began to laugh. It was a nice sort of laugh, creaky yet full of life. "Oh, no, my dear. I don't think we could fit another child in this house."

"But he hates it at the Dursley's," Tamisin argued. "They're terrible to him."

"I know they are, but they're his family. We can't march over to Privet Drive and take him to live with us."

"Why not?"

Mrs. Figg gave Tamisin a sad smile. "Well, we would have to get the court involved, and I'm sure that no one would want that."

"I guess not."

"Trust me, my dear, if I had it my way, I would take Harry in, but as it stands, I'm unable to."

"But he told me that maybe it would be better to live here," Tamisin continued, bracing herself for the thing she was about to say.

"And why is that?"

"Because we're both sick."

"Sick?" Mrs. Figg asked, concerned. "Miss Sayers told me you had the chicken pox when you were four. And you've just gotten over a cold. How can you be sick?"

"It's a special kind of sickness," Tamisin said quietly. "Harry and I…make things happen."

Mrs. Figg grew silent. Tamisin took this as her cue to go on.

"When the Dursley's first came over, and the curtain rod fell on them…I think that was me. I wanted something to fall on them, because they were being so rude. And then it just happened. And Harry told me he can do similar things, too. And...we don't try to do it, but it just keeps happening. We're really scared. Are we sick?"

Mrs. Figg simply stared at Tamisin before breaking out into a smile. "Sick? My dear, you're far from sick! Oh, this is wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" She got up from the table, picked up the nearest cat – an orange tabby named Jonathon – and began waltzing around the kitchen with him. Jonathon looked extremely displeased with this.

"Mrs. Figg? Why are you—"

"Oh, Tamisin! Do you know what this means?"

"No."

And, before Tamisin knew it, Mrs. Figg said six simple words that changed her life forever:

"Tamisin, my dear, you're a witch!"


	9. 2,3: The Truth About Magic

_Hi. Um...a lot's happened since I last updated. But I guess at least someone loves this, so I may as well continue it. And, as my Women's Lit professor says, it'll "keep me off the streets and out of trouble"._

_It's a bit short, but I'm getting back into the Potterverse, so that's why._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3: The Truth about Magic<span>

Tamisin felt her eyes bulge out of her head as she stared at her caretaker. Had she just said that she, Tamisin, was a witch? That couldn't be true. Witches weren't real. They were in her storybooks, but they didn't really exist.

Did they?

Mrs. Figg set down a disgruntled Jonathon and turned to Tamisin. "My dear, why do you look so terrified? This is good news!"

Tamisin stared up at Mrs. Figg, who was positively giddy. "How is it good? Witches are evil. They capture people, and lock them away."

"Not all witches are like that," Mrs. Figg explained. "Surely you know that."

Tamisin shook her head. "No, I didn't."

Mrs. Figg suddenly frowned. "You…you aren't aware of anything."

Tamisin shook her head again.

Mrs. Figg sighed. "Okay. Help me clear the table, and then I'll tell you all you need to know."

* * *

><p>"I think the first thing you need to know is that you're not alone, Tamisin. There are many, many other men and women who possess the gifts you have."<p>

"How come I've never seen them?"

"You probably have!" Mrs. Figg laughed kindly. "They don't show themselves to Muggles, not very often."

"Muggles?"

"A Muggle is someone who doesn't possess any magic."

"Like the Dursleys?"

Mrs. Figg gave her a wry smile. "All in good time, dear." Her face turned grave. "I think the next thing you need to know is…is about your parents."

Tamisin frowned. "But…my father left, and my mother gave me up—"

"Oh, no," Mrs. Figg interrupted. "That's how the Muggles explain it. What happened was, six years ago, there was a terrible war going on. Your father, who was a wizard, fought very bravely, but…he lost his life."

Tamisin felt tears well in her eyes. "And…and what about my mum?"

"We don't know what happened to her," Mrs. Figg said sadly. "Miss Sayers might have her contact information, but we cannot know for sure where she is."

Tamisin nodded for what seemed like the billionth time.

"Do you have any questions for me?"

"Um…are you a witch?"

"Me? A witch?" Mrs. Figg laughed, holding her sides. "Oh, no! I don't have any magic!"

"So, are you a…a Muggle?"

"I'm a special sort of Muggle. I'm a Squib."

"A squid? Isn't that like an octopus?"

"Not a squid, a Squib with a B. Squibs are children born to magical parents, but do not possess any magic themselves. Both my parents were magical, and I always felt a bit left out when all my friends went off to Hogwarts and I was forced to go to regular school."

"Hogwarts?" The word itself sounded majestic.

"The best magic school in all of England!" Mrs. Figg declared. "But you have a while before you have to worry about that sort of thing. Most magic children attend school when they turn eleven."

"So…what do I do until then?"

"For the moment, nothing. If something out of the ordinary happens, like the curtain rod incident, that's quite alright. Your magic is still manifesting itself, and it'll calm down in a year or two."

Tamisin blinked. "You…you knew? About the rod?"

"I suspected as much. Magic starts to show in young children around that age. I kept an eye on you, to be sure, and now I can safely say my suspicions were right."

"And…this is…good, right?"

"Of course, dear! Don't worry yourself into a state. Magic is only evil when you use it as such, and I know you'd never do that."

Tamisin shook her head. "No. I'd never want to hurt anyone."

Mrs. Figg crossed to Tamisin, patting her head. "That's a good girl. I believe it's time for bed. If you have any other questions, don't hesitate to ask me at any time, alright?"

"Alright." Tamisin was halfway up the stairs when she paused. "Mrs. Figg?"

"Yes?"

"What about Harry? Is he a wizard, too?"

Mrs. Figg's expression turned grim again. "That's a story for tomorrow, dear. Go on up to bed."

* * *

><p>About a week later, Tamisin caught Harry on his way home from school. He asked her about being sick again.<p>

"Oh, that." She shrugged. "Um…it's just our imagination, Harry. Nothing more."

"But…I swear, it's real."

"No." She swallowed. "It's not. There's no such thing as magic."

She walked briskly home, almost in tears. Harry couldn't know, not right now. Mrs. Figg had explained that there was a plan for him, and that included waiting a few years before he knew the truth. And as much as that pained her, she'd follow it.


End file.
